Did any of you wasters (pretend to) go alcohol-free in
January? I know Jolie did, and I considered joining her, because I'm a big
proponent of limiting your gross booze intake any way you can. Obviously year-round
moderation is the best way to do it, but many of us just aren't wired
that way, nor do we wish to be. I realize that a couple binges a week is harder
on the old liver than slowly and steadily losing the race via two beers with
dinner every night capped off by a bedtime brandy that doesn't really count
anyway since it's mostly medicinal. But it's so much more fun to just get good
and ripped every now and then, isn't it?

Drynuary. The reality is as unattractive as the word: An entire month* without alcohol. That means…
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Regardless of your drinking style, February's a fine time to
shake up your routine. Whether you're the type who spent January stockpiling
booze credits or just another everyday drunk, February's the best month to
expand your drinking horizons. Everything's cold and gray and awful, and just
like you're done pretending to have a handle on your drinking, you're done
pretending to tolerate the winter. You need something to get you through to
March in one piece, and it's not going to be a trip to Aruba or another
foolhardy bout of clean living, so it might as well be more thoughtful
drinking. We all have favorites for a reason, and I'm not asking you to get
weird just for novelty's sake, but I hereby submit 13 drinks you should
consider in your pursuit of a drunker, more enlightened February.

1. The other color of
wine

Even though the otherwise infallible Calvin Trillin questions if there's much of a difference, most casual wine drinkers I know have a color
preference. My wife's a strictly white wino who was blessed with cheap tastes,
so our fridge is always filthy with $3 Trader Joe's bullshit. I prefer red, but
I also prefer not to be caught outspending her 4 to 1 on every bottle, so I
just don't drink a lot of wine these days. But in my recent swig-sneakings of
her restaurant wine, I've been reminded how good white can be if you're willing
to spend in the higher single digits. My new theory is that it can be rewarding
to step across the aisle, spend a couple extra bucks if necessary, and see if
you can gain a new appreciation for the other.

2. Gin and tonic

I believe in drinking seasonally—not necessarily to stay in
touch with Mother Earth's ebbs and flows, but to impose some variety on my
routine. Imperial stouts are as delicious in July as they are in
January, but setting rough guidelines concerning time and place helps you avoid
lush-ruts. But there's something to be said for reminding yourself of better
times ahead, so fix yourself a gin and tonic, stare out at the snow, and take
comfort in knowing that summer will be along in just 1,000 short years.

3. Homebrew

You probably know someone who brews his own beer, and you
probably know who that someone is, because he probably never shuts up about it.
Well, if you have to listen to him, you might as well swipe some of his juice.
A lot of homebrew is terrible, but I've had a few good ones, and regardless of
quality drinking moonshine is always fun. I'm not Johnny Artisanal by any
means, but if you've got the time and the inclination, there's no reason NOT to
make your own beer or at least support (by which I mean steal from) those who
do. Way too many killbuzzes claim to see no point since there's already so much
good beer in the world. Yeah, well, the world's full of good meatballs too, and
that doesn't stop you from making your own, because you realize you're not
competing with Mario Batali, you're just trying to make the best dinner you
can. No reason the same logic can't be applied to getting DIY drunk.

4. Good tequila neat

You don't need anything aged or expensive or endorsed by Cousin
Christoper; just ask your bartender for $9 worth of a respectable blanco
(Comrade Craggs hates when I mention brands, but Milagro's good for this sort
of exercise), sip it nice and slow, and realize your beef all along has been
with shitty tequila, shitty marketing, and shitty margaritas.

People avoid all sorts of boozes for all sorts of reasons. Maybe you're too broke for Scotch…
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5. Bad triple sec neat

This is one is purely educational, as any pleasure will be
derived from bulking up your brain in the process of beating down your tongue.
Ask for a quick hit off the sugar-crusted bottle of off-brand bullshit most
bars bury inside their margaritas and see the real root of the problem. Bad
triple sec is a bigger scourge than bad tequila and bad commercials combined.

6. Your biggest
regional craft brewery's flagship beer

I would rather be hit by the car Burneko sends after
culinary infidels than get into a fight over beer industry definitions, so I
will just say what I mean and let the pedants bicker amongst themselves. By "craft beer," I mean "Beer that is not shitty or owned by a giant company." By "biggest," I mean "The one that people outside your region have the most access to or at
least knowledge of; you know, the one they serve at the airport, the one that
sponsors your minor league teams and food truck festivals." For me, this beer is
either Samuel Adams Boston Lager or Harpoon IPA (Samuel Adams is bigger but less
regional now that it's brewed in Pennsylvania), so I resolve to have both. If
you're on the West Coast, it's Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Shiner Bock in Texas,
Dogfish 60 Minute in the Eastern Middle, and so on. You decide—just don't cheat.
Our purpose here is to pay respects to the originators of our local craft beer
scenes. There are now dozens of New England IPAs better than Harpoon, for example, but it
doesn't hurt to kiss the ring once a year out of gratitude for whoever dragged
your region out of the Bud abyss.

7. Fresh Greyhound

I don't drink a lot of vodka, because it's a little bit
bland and I simply prefer too many other liquors. But I'm tired of
vodka-shaming among the self-appointed guardians of all that is right and true
and vested and tattooed in the cocktail world. I'll poke fun at certain drinks,
get a bit of a rise out of the Fernetsticks and Jagerholes, but you'll never
catch me piling another post onto the "What Your Drink Says About You" dung
heap. Those articles are manifestly stupid, because everyone's drink says the same thing:
You're tired of being sober and hope this might be a tasty way out of that
pickle. And they usually compound the stupidity with snobbery by including a dig about vodka drinkers being naïfs and amateurs who've yet to embrace the dangerous beauty of the darker spirits. This whole
vodka-is-for-rookies narrative would be tiresome even if it were true, but you
know who drinks vodka, besides the sorority girls and finance guys these
articles always demean? Russians! Russians drink vodka! If it's bad enough for the Russians, it's bad enough for you and me. So I recommend that sometime
before the month's through you pick up two fresh grapefruits and juice them into
a giant glass of decent vodka.

8. Mead

If the bees are going to provide us with drunk-honey, the
least we can do is try some.

9. Lager

The overwhelming majority of America's best beers are ales.
In fact, Beer Advocate's Top 250 list rattles off 197 straight ales before Jack's
Abby Hoponious Union represents for the lagers. This is partially because ales are awesome and partially
because the newest wave of craft brewers have neglected lager's potential.
Lagers differ from ales structurally in that they use different yeast strains
and fermentation temperatures. There is no inherent qualitative disadvantage;
the hurdles from the drinker's perspective are matters of heritage and
reputation. Most of us rightly associate lagers with pissy yellow corporate
brew—Bud, Miller, Coors—and, to a lesser extent, with skunky green-bottled
European imports that sit on the shelf for way too long to maintain any
integrity.

But new-school brewers who are looking to supplement their
rosters of hop-monster ales are starting to turn out small batches of very good
lagers. Most of these are lighter in both body and alcohol and therefore
benefit from the shortest possible time between brew kettle and mouth, so try
to find a local one. In Massachusetts we have the excellent Notch Pils, as well
as the entire line from Jack's Abby. Dogfish Head's My Antonia Imperial Pilsner is
very good, as is their new Piercing Pils. Boulevard Reverb is another widely
available imperial pilsner, and Left Hand Polestar is a more traditional
version. Have yourself a nice craft lager now and start daydreaming about what
your new summer beer's going to be.

10. Cider

The modern American cider movement got off to a slow start because consumers didn't care
what brand or style they drank; they were happy to settle for whatever cider a
bar in 1997 happened to serve. So we ended up with oceans of mediocre Magner's
and slightly better Woodchuck. But now cider, like lager, is starting to get
more attention from ambitious producers and discerning (or gluten-averse) drinkers.
There are scads of new ones and I can't claim to know much about them
individually, but I know enough to say that the class of booze is much better
than you'd expect if your cider experience consists of grabbing a Magner's from
the back of the fridge when the beer's gone and you're not yet drunk enough to
go for the Mike's Hard Whateverade.

11. Foreign Beer Somewhere
It Might Possibly Be Fresh

This one's easy. Next time you're in an ethnic restaurant,
just skip the Heineken and get whatever comes from the cuisine's
homeland. Is Kingfisher any good? Hell, who knows, but the best way to find out
is to order one someplace that stands a chance of selling enough to keep it
fresh.

12. Mixed 6-Pack From
the Closest Brewery to Your House

Even easier—you don't have to eat at all, never mind risk
exposure to potentially intimidating utensils or condiments! Use this map to
figure out your nearest brewery and try as much of their line as you can in one
sitting.

13. Irish Coffee

Because it is fucking February, after all.

February is miserable, and despite the lying-ass calendar's
claims of brevity, it provides more drink-it-away time than any other month. So
play around with it a little bit and try a few new things before you settle
back into your brilliant and filthy routine, willya?

Good afternoon! Let me tell you how to run your wedding. Just kidding, no one cares about your…
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Will Gordon loves life and tolerates dissent. He lives in Cambridge, Mass., and has visited all of the other New England states, including, come to think of it, Vermont. Find him on Twitter @WillGordonAgain.